


The songs on the radio are okay but my taste in music is your face

by idontshaveforsher_yesyoudo



Category: Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Fluff, M/M, i wrote this at like two am, i'm tired man, idek what this is
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-29
Updated: 2015-05-29
Packaged: 2018-04-01 20:13:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,822
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4033054
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/idontshaveforsher_yesyoudo/pseuds/idontshaveforsher_yesyoudo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Troyes eyes flicker over flawless abs and muscular biceps, before he blushes and fixates his look on the other’s face.<br/>“Umm, hey, I’m Troye.”<br/>“Connor.”<br/>Troye can feel his face grow read as he shakes his hand, trying to ignore the fact that the smile makes Connor look like the fucking sun.</p><p>five times he accidentally hears him singing and twice he's supposed to listen<br/>or, they're in college and cant get their shit together</p>
            </blockquote>





	The songs on the radio are okay but my taste in music is your face

**Author's Note:**

> ok so english is not my first language so, sorry for any mistakes  
> title from tear in my heart by twenty one pilots  
> btw the song Troye sings is color by paradise fears go check it out it's nice  
> (edit: i came back to fix some mistakes and stuff but yeah the story's still the same)

1  
To say Troye is nervous about meeting the person he’s going to room with for the next year would be a slight understatement. He’s a nerve wreck. It doesn’t really show on the outside, he’s a drama major after all, but on the inside he’s shaking. What if they don’t get along? He’ll have to live with someone he doesn’t like for several months, and he has no desire to whatsoever. But regardless of the thoughts running through his head he finds himself in front of his future room, taking a deep breath and knocking. He doesn’t get a response, so he uses the key he got to open the door himself.

The room is empty, and Troye looks around, registering everything. There are two beds, two cupboards and two desks, all ordered symmetrically. On the right side a big suitcase is already laying on the bed, various items of clothing spread out, and while the left side is blank, the right wall is covered in photographs and there is a heap of books on the desk.

Seeing as there is nothing else he can to until his roommate returns, he starts unpacking, folding his clothes into the cupboard on his side. He just finished hanging up the picture of his family when the door opens with a bang and his head flies up.

The person standing there isn’t exactly what he imagined, if he’s honest. He’s one or two years older than him, brown hair plastered to his forehead, wearing running shorts, and, most importantly, no shirt.

Troyes eyes flicker over flawless abs and muscular biceps, before he blushes and fixates his look on the other’s face.  
(Which is kind of a big mistake because it’s as perfect as the rest.)

“Umm, hey, I’m Troye.” Cursing his nervousness, he waits for a response. The other is staring at him, and if Troye hadn’t known better he would’ve thought he looked appreciative.

But before it can get more awkward, the guy shakes his head a bit and extends his hand, a bright smile on his face.

“Connor.”

Troye can feel his face grow read as he shakes his hand, trying to ignore the fact that the smile makes Connor look like the fucking sun.

\--

It’s been two weeks since he first met his roommate, and they have been quite eventful. He has made a few friends already, and classes have started, but he doesn’t really have any homework yet, leaving him more time to get to know Connor. He found out the boy is a Photography/English Literature double major, a year over Troye, and has a weird obsession with taking pictures every waking second. It startled Troye the first time a camera was pushed into his face when he was lying on his bed, laughing over a stupid joke Connor just made, but the other boy just shrugged and said ‘your eyes just looked really pretty like this’

All in all, his first two weeks have passed in a blur, and he’s in the bathroom on Sunday morning, humming a song that’s been playing on repeat on his phone recently. He strips and turns on the shower, happy that no one’s here at this time and he got the good shower. Washing his hair, he starts singing, first quiet, then louder, and when he turns off the water, he’s at full volume, pouring every emotion he has into the notes. He slips into sweatpants and a baggy shirt, gathers his stuff and pulls the curtain aside, still humming, only to stop dead in his tracks.

Connor is leaning against the wall, towel hung over his shoulder. He is clearly waiting for Troye to finish, and Troye doesn’t know how long he has been standing there, but he probably heard all of his singing session.

So he does the only thing logical right now, and tries to flee. Which doesn’t turn out to be a good idea, because before he can take two steps, Connor grabs his wrist.

“That was seriously amazing. Was that ILYSB?” His voice is husky, probably has talked just as much as Troye has today, not a word.

Troye blushes. “Yeah, you know it?” He waits for Connor to find him weird and cut the conversation short, because who else has loud shower singing sessions except for a weird freshman who no one cares about.

But Connor stares at him.

“It’s one of my favourite songs. But where did you learn to sing like that? Are you, like, a super talent, because, I mean, you look like a model, you can sing and you’re majoring in drama?”

Troye feels his face grow even redder at the words, looking down, but there’s a little smile playing on his lips. “I guess…”

“You guess? Listen, you need self worth lessons urgently. You’re amazing, I wish I was half as talented as you are.”

Before he knows he feels his smile grow wide, and he’s beaming at Connor. It’s only now, after two weeks of living together, that he realizes he’s taller than him, not that much but still. They’re standing in the bathroom looking at each other, stupid grins on their faces, until the door bursts open and a student strides in and they separate, and Connor disappears in the shower. Troye smiles stupidly, and there’s a little jump in his steps when he makes his way to their room.

2  
It’s a week later and his desk is a mess already so he decided to clean it while his roommate’s out. While shuffling through paper piles, he finds an old sheet with words scribbled down on it, and he laughs silently when he sees it’s titled ‘Happy Little Pill’, because he hasn’t thought about this song in a while and he doesn’t even know how it landed here. So while he continues cleaning, he finds himself singing what he wrote months ago, words coming back to him easily, and he has to admit that the song is pretty great. He’s so engrossed in the lyrics that he doesn’t notice the door opening and Connor staying still, gawping in awe at his voice.

It’s only when he turns around to throw an old pen away when he notes the other boy, blushing red. He doesn’t look the other in the eye, doesn’t see the complete admiration on his face until Connor speaks up.

“Okay, but that was, like, completely amazing. What is that song?”

Troye smiles sheepishly. “I might have written that…”

Eyes widen at that, “Wait, what? You wrote that? So you’re a songwriter, too? Is there anything you can’t do?”

The younger grins at that. “Well, I’m a really bad dancer, I can’t go a day without Nutella, and I’m a terrible cook-“

“Oh, that’s no problem. I’m actually really good in the kitchen, and I think my dancing isn’t that bad, so we got those parts covered. And about Nutella, I think that’s just human instinct.”

Now Troye is the one staring. What is that supposed to mean?

Before he can ask, Connor grabs his jacket, and Troye could’ve sworn he winked over his shoulder on his way out.

3  
Despite being a broke student, he bought new headphones and he’s trying them out by turning them far too loudly, but he loves this song, and he can’t help but start singing. He’s halfway through the chorus when he realizes that Connor is, in fact, in the same room, and he rapidly sits up from where has been lying on the bed.  
“Oh, don’t worry, I quite enjoy Ed Sheeran now and then, especially when it’s All Of The Stars, and _especially_ when it’s you singing it.”

Troye feels his cheeks grow red again; this has happened far too often these past weeks. “Really?”

Connor’s turned around from where he was sitting at his desk, a pencil stuck between his teeth, and Troye tries not to focus onto his lips too much. “Yeah. It’s actually a nice change to homework.”

Troye smiles shyly, then puts his headphones in again, making sure this time he doesn’t sing loudly, only humming slightly now and then.

4  
Before he knows it, two months have passed and it’s Halloween. But instead of, like Connor, being exited about the party that’s going to take place in the evening, he told his friends he’d pass. He’s been in a bad mood all day, and knows exactly why.

“Are you sure you don’t wanna go?” He’s sitting on his bed, watching his roommate getting ready

“No, really, I’m not feeling too well. I’ll stay in."

Connor throws him one last look, smiles widely and walks out the door, throwing a ‘bye’ over his shoulder.

As soon as he is out of the room, Troye breaks down. The holiday reminds him too much of him. It’s been a year exactly today, and even though he does great most of the time, seeing his friends preparing for the party reminded him too much of his old self, who was the same a year ago until he found his boyfriend of five months snogging with a girl in a corner that evening. He remembers him pleading for Troye to take him back, that he was only drunk, and later throwing slurs at his head about him acting childish, and great, now Troye’s crying. He’s crying for those five months, the best months of his life, crying for the loss of a person he loved, crying for misjudging him, crying for the old Troye, the one who died that night. Crying for a lost love.

\--

It’s late at night, but not late enough for the partygoers coming back. He’s sitting on his bed, flipping through the box of old photos. They’re pictures of his friends and family, of his old classmates, but, most importantly, pictures of him. He never realized just how many photos he took that winter, pictures of him sleeping, of them laughing together, drinking coffee at Starbucks, of them on their two months anniversary at the cinema, so many pictures of him. He’s flipping through them eagerly, taking in the face he hasn’t seen in so long, until a sheet falls into his hand. He folds it up, tries to read what’s written on it, and then he gasps as realisation hits him. After three months he couldn’t stand it anymore and threw the song into the box, but now he spreads it again, deciphering the words until he knows exactly how to play it again. He moves over to his keyboard, and the notes come easily, flowing out of him followed by sentences, and he’s singing the song he had half forgotten about, and there’s silent tears streaming down his cheeks again as he sings the chorus and then stops, putting his head in his arms, until a voice speaks up.

“Are you okay?”

He whirls around, staring at Connor standing in the doorway, not knowing what he’s supposed to do, and he tries to dry his eyes quickly, but new tears just keep coming.

“I suppose not, huh?” His roommate still seems a bit unsure, but seeing the younger boy looking like that, he takes two steps across the room and pulls him close to his chest. Despite being taller than him, he Troye buries his face in his neck, sobbing quietly. All the older can do is murmur calming words, holding him tightly, patting his shoulder.

After a few minutes, Troye pulls away, embarrassed about his breakdown. “I’m sorry”

“Hey.” Connor pulls him closer again, nuzzling his nose into the others hair. “There’s nothing to be sorry for. Everyone breaks down now and then.”

Sniffling, the younger replies, “You don’t.”

Connor laughs out. “Oh, Troye, you haven’t seen me at my worst yet.” He pushes him towards his bed. “You know what’ll make you feel better? Cuddles.”

And Troye finds himself on a bed smelling of his roommate, and after changing into sweatpants and a wide shirt, Connor lies down next to him, pulls the covers over them, and wraps his arms around him. Troye snuggles into him, inhaling his smell.

“Hey.” He looks up and waits for the other to continue. “You wanna talk about it?”

Troye hesitates, but then decides he has nothing to lose. “It’s just, a year ago I found my boyfriend, Jake, cheating on me just before I was gonna tell him I loved him”, he takes a shaky breath, “and I guess even though I laugh about it now and I haven’t seen him in months I’m still not over him? And I haven’t told anyone this, not even my best friend, but sometimes I wish I could just go back and see him one last time to prove I made it all along but I’d probably start crying in front of him,” there are the tears again, “And I guess I just miss him, I know he’s an asshole but the five months with him were one of the best times of my life and I miss him so fucking much-“ A loud sob escapes him, and his head is buried into Connor’s chest, and Connor just holds him tight, running his fingers through his hair, and they fall asleep like that, closely embraced.

5  
Since that night they have been touching more than ever. It varies from the ‘accidental’ brush of hands when they both grab for the coffee machine they installed the third week they were here, to the hugs at random times when one of them needs some human affection. They haven’t talked about Troye’s confession, but it felt good to be able to tell someone how he feels. Connor is the first person Troye runs to when he get a mail from a records company who found the videos his old school posted on the internet of him singing, and want him to upload a few songs on their channel to see the response, and who might even, if it’s good, sign him for a record deal. The older boy squeals – he literally squeals – with joy and hugs him tightly, whispering in his ear how proud he is of Troye. He’s also the first person he calls when his first cover reaches hundred thousand views.

So Troye finds himself in front of the camera the label gave him, filming his first original song. It’s about a celebrity crush, but Troye know that’s only a hide of the fact that he wrote the song thinking about his roommate. He won’t tell him that, though. So he sings the song, and he doesn’t notice Connor coming in and waiting by his bed until he has finished filming the outro and the older tackles him from behind, making him fall off the chair and landing on top of him, and they’re staring into each other’s eyes.

“Hi.”

Troye’s mouth twitches at that, because only Connor would say something like that in a situation like this.

“Hey.”

Their gazes are still locked, and it should be weird, because this is Connor, the guy he’s had a crush on for months now, but his eyes are this amazing shade of green and he just can’t look away, and seemingly Connor can’t, either. They stay like that for what feels like eternity, until Connor reaches up with his hand and pulls Troye down to him and presses their lips together. And Troye freezes for a moment, because _what is Connor doing,_ until he kisses back, and it’s the best kiss he’s ever had. There’s no firework like in the movies, but he feels like he’s coming home after being gone for a long time, warm and confortable, and it feels like _Connor_.

They pull away when they need to breathe, and their lips meet again and again, until it’s only a series of short pecks. And then their foreheads rest together, and Troye speaks up,

“What do I owe this?”

Connor giggles and replies, “Your voice was just so perfect, I couldn’t hold myself back.”

Troye blushes, “Really?”

“Yeah.”

+1  
There isn’t much change after that, only that one of their beds isn’t used anymore, and they kiss now, and that they introduce each other as their boyfriends with a giddy smile on their faces.

It’s on a Sunday morning in December when Troye wakes up to a knock at the door. A glance on his phone screen shows him it’s ten o’clock already, but him and Connor stayed up late last night, watching episode after episode of this show they discovered recently. Groaning, he stands up, careful not to wake his sleeping boyfriend and throws on a shirt he finds on the floor, one of Connor, but he’s too tired to care. He flings open the door, wants to throw a snarky question who dares wake him up at this time, but he freezes as he sees who’s standing in front of his room.

His eyes are still a warm colour of brown, his hair styled to a perfect quiff, his body still as perfectly sculptured as it was a year ago. Jake.

“Hey Troye.” His voice is deeper now, and Troye is still frozen, unable to move or say anything.

“Aren’t you happy to see me?” A year ago he would’ve fallen for that, but now he hears the snarl buried under his warm tone.

“What- what are you doing here?” He hates that he gets nervous, but it’s been a year, and he never would’ve expected him to turn up here, America of all places.

The other grins. “Oh, I was in the area, you know, modelling, and I thought I’d drop by.”

“Modeling?

“Yeah, this agency hit me up and I’ve been doing it for a while now… So can I come in? Is your roommate out?” Troye wonders briefly what Jake plans on doing if his roommate has to be out for it, but before he can answer he feels arms hug him from behind and the adorable husky voice of a sleepy Connor right next to his ear.

“Babe? What’s going on?”  


Jake’s eyebrows shoot up at the pet name, but Troye can feel some of his tension already melting away at the warmth of his boyfriend, who is currently mustering his opponent.

“Who are you?”

Troye can’t help but smile at the directness of the question, knowing that a tired Connor is unable to be polite, while Jake seems to be startled by it.

“The name’s Jake, and who might you be?”

Connor’s arms tighten at the name, remembering what Troye told him, and he answers, “Troye’s boyfriend.”

Jake looks at the pair in front of him, both with rumpled hair, one shirtless, and grins.

“Oh, Troye, I thought you had better taste. But you seem to be taken, so giving you a second chance won’t be of any use. In that case, I’ll go.” He sighs dramatically, and turns to move away, but Troye moves at light speed and grabs his arm, spinning him back around.

“Oh no, don’t you dare walk away.”

“What, you want to leave that loser and take my second chance? I forgive you.”

“No, you don’t.” Troye’s voice is cold, it’s a tone he has never heard of himself, and, by his face, Jake wasn’t prepared for it, either. “You come here after a year and tell me something like that? I don’t think so, Jake. It’s not your turn to forgive, it’s mine. And trust me, I will never, ever forgive you. You’re an asshole, and you know it. So leave me and my boyfriend the fuck alone, and don’t you dare to ever speak one word to either of us again.” He takes a step back and slams the door closed. He’s breathing heavily, and he can feel Connor’s hand on his shoulder.

“Troye? You okay?”

He takes a deep breath. “Yeah. I’m okay. Never felt better.” He smiles at Connor, widely, and Connor pulls him close, nuzzles his face into his neck and whispers a quiet “I’m proud of you” into his ear. The smile doesn’t leave for a week.

\--

Three days before Christmas, and Troye wakes up to almost complete darkness, the bed next to him empty. The window is open, and he sees Connor perched up on the window still, feet dangling over the edge. He quickly pulls the covers back, walks over and hugs his boyfriend from behind him. He can feel he startled him, but he pulls him even closer.

“What are you doing? You’ll get sick.” Connor just shrugs, so he continues, “Come back to bed, and we can talk about it?”

He lets out a breath he didn’t know he was holding in when Connor nods and swings his legs back into the room and closes the window, and he leads him back to their bed, and when they’re snuggled under a mountain of covers face to face, he says,

“Wanna talk about it?”

Connor sighs, and after a minute of silence, he starts. “I guess it just stuck in my head what Jake said, about me being a loser… I just can’t help to think, what if I am? What if everyone just puts up with me because I have to? There have been so many people who before who left, people I thought were my friends but in the end only saw me as a distraction from someone else, and I just can’t stand the thought of losing you, too. Because you are talented and beautiful and perfect, and I’m just, not.” He stops, and there are tears in his eyes and it breaks Troyes heart seeing him like this, so he interrupts him,

“Hey.” He cups his face in his palm, strokes his cheek softly. “Hey. You are so much more than that, okay? You take amazing pictures, pictures that when you look at them tell a whole story about something most people don’t even see. You have the ability to shut some one up with the beauty of your words, you create sentences in a way no one else can. You- you’re stunning. You’re simply stunning, and I love you.” He stops, realizing what he said, panicking, because he doesn’t know if they’re at a place where they can say things like this, and –

“You … you what?”

– And seeing Connor like this, vulnerable, crying, and still breathtakingly gorgeous, he’s sure.

“I love you. I love your eyes, the way they twinkle when you’re happy, your lips, curved into a smile, your hair when it’s styled perfectly or a complete mess made by my hands, and your nose when it’s scrunched up when you’re concentrating. I love your perfect body; your arms that make me feel like I’m home, and your chest when it’s pressed against my back while we’re lying in bed. I love the way you get passionate about things, and how when you’re exited you start jumping around completely hyperactive. I love you when you’re grumpy because you’ve been doing homework for too long, and when you’re tired early in the morning, and when you can barely contain your happiness because it’s overflowing. I love every single part of you and nothing’s going to change that. I love you.”

Tears are running down Connor’s face now, and he lunges forward and presses his mouth to Troye’s, kissing him in a way that says everything. When they break apart, Connor whispers,

“I love you too.”

They’re smiling at each other stupidly, and then Connor curls into Troye’s chest, and it’s silent until,

“Troye?”

“Yeah?”

“…Can you sing something for me?”

The younger boy smiles at the hesitation, and starts humming a melody, and then he starts singing.

_Black and white, frozen in time_   
_Your lips lying so close to mine_   
_It was dark but all I could see was colour_

_Everything was fading away_   
_The night starts blurring into day_   
_Sun comes up and to me_   
_It feels like colour_   
_Oh it feels like colour_

_I can hear you softly say_   
_I wont call its a word full away_   
_Just tonight, but to me_   
_It feels like colour_

+2  
Three years later

Troye steps back from the microphone, lets the crowd sing the last words for him. It’s the last show of his tour, and he couldn’t be any happier with two successful albums, an international fan base and – of course – an amazing boyfriend. He smiles widely and puts a finger to his lips, gesturing for silence. It takes a minute, but then things calm down.

“Okay, so today is mine and my boyfriends anniversary, so would he please come up here?” The crowd screams as a flustered Connor walks onto the stage. He waves a bit, then stands next to Troye, looking a bit confused on what this is supposed to be, but Troye just kisses his cheek and takes the microphone of the stand and announces,

“So here’s a classic.”

The opening of ‘We’re my OTP’ starts playing, and while the crowd is ‘Aww’- ing, Connor stands there, laughing silently. Troye starts singing, and Connor is looking at his boyfriend in a way of “I love him, when did I agree to date him, he’s a fucking dork.”

The song continues and now everyone’s swaying in rhythm of the singer’s voice filling the room. When the song comes to an end, Troye fiddles with something his pocket, gets ready, and he finishes with, “We’d be so sexy… No, literally, the only thing that’s stopping us from getting married is that I haven’t, proposed yet.” And with that, he sinks down onto the floor and pulls out a tiny box, opens it to reveal a simple silver band.

Connor’s hand flies up to his mouth.

“Connor Joel Franta”, Troye begins, “We’ve been together for three years now, and these three years have been the best time of my life. I fell in love with you. I fell head over heels, and there was no stopping it. I was a goner for you from the day I first met you, when you walked into our dorm room shirtless.” They both grin at that memory and the crowd aww’s loudly. “I have been falling ever since, and every day I feel myself more in love with you than the day before. I fell for your voice in the morning and your eyes late at night, your messy handwriting and the way of you never put my books back where they belong. I fell in love with your hair sticking to your head when you’ve been out running in the rain and the way you look when you steal my beanie. I fell in love with your gentleness and your way of making everyone feel happy around you. I fell in love with you, and sometimes so fast it’s almost scary. Good thing you are always there to catch me. So, will you do me the honour of making me the happiest man on earth and marry me?”

It’s almost dead quiet, and tears are rolling down Connor’s face, and he nods, unable to form words. The crowd cheers, and Troye takes his boyfriends – no, fiancés – hand, sticks the ring onto his finger, smiling up tentatively, and Connor just pulls him to his feet and tugs him close, and they stand on the stage in front of a couple of hundred people, embraced tightly in their own bubble, swaying back and forth a bit, and Connor whispers an “I love you so much” and Troye replies with an equally emotional “I love you too.”

It’s only after a minute when they pull apart, Troyes eyes suspiciously red, too, as he lays his arm around Connor’s waist and speaks into the microphone,

“So, I owe you guys two more songs.” The crowd screams loudly, and for the rest of the show, Troyes arm rests around Connor, holding him close.

Afterwards, they walk off together, and backstage there are their families, and everyone’s congratulating, and someone mentions how they’re trending worldwide on Twitter. There’s a party because it was the last show and there’s drinks and lots of people, and at one point the pair disappears onto the balcony of the place they’re at.

“Hey.” Troye smiles at Connor widely and Connor pulls him close, and they stand under the night sky, bodies fitting together, melting to one.

“You know, I always thought I’d propose one day.” Connor speaks up.

“Well, I got there first.”

“I noticed.” Connor chuckles dryly, and brushes their lips together. It’s quiet for an uncountable amount of time, the pair just enjoying each other’s bodies, until Troye giggles.

“What’s so funny?”

“It’s just, you’re still smaller than me.”

“Shut up.

“Not a chance.”

So Connor lunges forward, and this time it’s more passionate, and the city around them bustles, and the room inside is filled with everyone they love, and right now, neither of them could be happier.


End file.
